Super 8 (2011)

An uncondescending, but remarkably unoriginal throwback to the Amblin Entertainment family films of the '80s, this children-centric sci-fi piece has a group of pre-teens accidentally capturing a mysterious train crash while filming a Super 8 zombie film. The whole film has that small-town vibe where everyone knows not only everyone's name, but their familial situation and behavioral tendencies. The main characters are well-rounded in that Stand By Me way where they swear and talk tough, while revealing their childhood naivete when on the subject of girls. There are two parallel central plots, one involving the Super 8 film's makeup man and his romance with the leading lady (played by Elle Fanning), and the other revolving around his father, the deputy, and his begrudging leadership of the town once the mayor mysteriously goes missing. Without giving too much away (although the secrets of this film don't really live up to their buildup), the film starts maintaining a sort of Jaws-meets-E.T.-meets-Close Encounters of the Third Kind vibe, cribbing imagery and moments wholesale from those movies, and keeping the kids at the forefront of the action in a very Stephen King's It sort of way.

J.J. Abrams greatest flaw is also his greatest attribute; he is a terrific showman. He is aware enough of pop culture to understand how to make something seem mysterious, interesting, and potentially, deep and engaging. In this age of "bigger is better," Alias, Lost, Cloverfield, and now Super 8 have all had the benefit of Abrams genius ability to leave just enough to the imagination to make something seem infinitely more interesting than it could have declared itself to be. However, all of those projects (save for Super 8) have another thing in common; they are all known as remarkable letdowns. From the last episode of Lost to the dismal box office numbers of Cloverfield, there is already plenty of evidence out there to show that J.J. Abrams is much better at setting things up than he is at actually following through on his grandiose promises. Super 8 is no exception. Remember that first trailer, showing nothing but the train crash, the camera, and the implication that something monstrous and alien escaped the train? Well, there's very little in the movie that expands on what is implied in the trailer, and the tricks they play with your preconceived notions of the films plot are embarrassing, hokey failures.

That being said, there is much of the film to commend. J.J. Abrams has a tendency to linger on quiet, schmaltzy moments, but usually casts well enough to pull those moments off; this film is no exception, and the greatest element of the film is its child cast. From the mousy, fireworks-obsessed scamp, to the overweight, tyrrannical director, to the flaky, consistently-vomiting leading man, the youthful characters are endearing, human, and consistently watchable. The central romance between the young, shy makeup man and the brave, caring leading lady is, surprisingly, cute and inoffensive (until the silly plot contrivances catch up with it). Unfortunately, the adult cast does not survive Abrams and producer Steven Spielberg's nostalgia-tinged vision; they all come off as hokey, Peanuts-style "wonk-wonk-wonk" caricatures who are inexcusably moody and prickish one second then inexplicably heroic and stalwart the next. Noah Emmerich, an actor who, since the Truman Show, has repeatedly impressed me with his sincere, naturalistic performances, is saddled with the worst role in the show, a merciless mad scientist/power-hungry Army type who is a mustache-twirl away from Snidey Whiplash. Ron Eldard also suffers a similar fate as Fanning's town-drunk father. The adult-centric stuff takes up a good %40-45 of the running time, so the gaping faults of that section cannot be overlooked; a shame, because, until the effects-driven, cliched cheesefest of a last act, the character work and nostalgic style actually render the film a rather endearing, family-friendly piece of cinema.

Slightly Recommended to families with tough kids (there are blood splatters in this film) and fans of Cloverfield which, in the end, the film shares remarkable similarities with (down to some of the SAME EXACT FX...God, what a disappointment). I definitely prefer this to E.T., but not necessarily Close Encounters. Honestly, I'd just rewatch Jaws.

P.S. There are definitely some killer jump scares in the film, but none better than the initial train-crash itself; even though the kids would definitely be killed by all the flaming debris that juuuuuuust misses them, the juxtaposition of the devastating carnage and the frightened kids in peril is terribly effective. Unfortunately, the rest doesn't really ever live up to that moment.

Midnight in Paris (2011)

An absolute delight for romantics, the latest Woody Allen picture concerns a hack screenwriter who, while on vacation in Paris, begins to take nightly walks through the streets in search of inspiration. What happens on these walks, an element graciously ignored by the majority of the promotional materials, I would not dare to spoil; what I can reveal is that the film is a meditation on the nature of art and art worship, in relation to the writer's deep, age-old reverence of the city of lights and the plethora of early 20th-century thinkers who made it their nesting ground. Owen Wilson plays the lead with a delicate balance between the typical Allen doppelganger and his usual shlubby, take-it-as-it-comes demeanor; it is nothing we have ever seen from Wilson or an Allen lead, and it is his career-best lead performance. Needless to say, considering this is a Woody Allen film, the cast is exemplary; aside from Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Tom Hiddleston, Michael Sheen, Kurt Fuller, Adrien Brody, Kathy Bates, and Marion Cotillard all show up with terrific results, especially McAdams, Cotillard, and Brody's sly, winning cameo. There is the usual romantic difficulties, revolving around differences in intellectual values and careless infidelity, sure, but the greater concern of the film is something more elusive and unconventional, and that is the ideal state for the creative mind. This sort of subject matter is rather exclusive and, dare I say, intellectual for most audiences, but for those who can appreciate the literary and artistic references, the dry, dense dialogue, and the devoutly romantic portrayal of Paris, the film creates a distinct mood and sense of joy that, I suspect, will not be found in any other American film this Summer.

Highly Recommended for fans of Allen, romantics, and junkies for early-20th century art and literature such as Picasso, Hemingway, or Cole Porter (whose "Let's Do It" plays a prominent role). I was fairly certain Whatever Works was going to be the last great film from Mr. Allen; upon leaving the theater, I could not remember the last time I was so happy to be so wrong.

Nothing Lasts Forever (1984)

A surreal, thoroughly original comedy about a young man who goes to New York City to make it as an artist, only to discover that the Port Authority has hijacked the city into a repressive, function-oriented dystopia. Zach Galligan from Gremlins plays the lead, an amiable, fresh-faced small-towner who is determined unfit to be an artist, and is forced to work the tollbooth at the Holland Tunnel. He attempts to break through the art world by proxy, only to find it is a dense, insular subculture where absurdism is mistaken for poignancy, and superficiality dominates. Eventually, he discovers a society of divinely-wise homeless people, and is tasked with saving the moon. Oh, and the entire film is presented, in style and tone, like a Frank Capra film from the '40s.

The film was written and directed by Tom Schiller, who contributed many short films to SNL over the years, and this film is somewhat in the style of his more bizarre, surreal work for that program. Although clearly well-versed in classic Hollywood, Schiller is not content with merely aping the era, but rather using it to portray his bizarre story in a way that carefully treads the line between camp and sincerity. If the film was an empty excercise in style, it would not warrant a feature film, but Schiller and Galligan provide enough genuine, irony-free substance that the narrative is simultaneously completely silly and thoroughly engaging. There is a climactic musical number by Bad Santa's Lauren Tom that achieves an obscure, fragile poignancy that very few films of the era evoked, especially the mainstream comedies. The presence of Dan Aykroyd and another classic SNL alum (he's credited, but I refuse to specify who due to the perfection of his opening moments) ensures some familiar, straight-laced comedy, but mostly, the laughs are in the sheer absurdism of Schiller's storytelling methods and 1940's sensibilities. It is a fantastical, dreamlike film, and warrants a greater appreciation than it currently receives from academia (though that is most likely due to its lack of DVD availability).

Highly Recommended for fans of more original, anarchic comedy, or of old 1970's SNL. The film can be seen here, or can be downloaded off of a VHS copy on Bittorrent. There is genuinely nothing quite like this movie; a true lost classic.

Hot Tub Time Machine (2010)

Hilarious, if somewhat obvious comedy about 3 40ish guys, and one of their nephews, as they travel back in time to their mid-80's prime via, you guessed it, a Hot Tub Time Machine. My expectation was that the 80's setting would be the primary source of humor, given the obvious anachronisms and culture shifts since then, but the 80's jokes are mostly comprised of time-appropriate references and obvious fashion jokes. John Cusack, Rob Corddry, Craig Robinson, and Clark Duke play the 4 leads, and their interplay ends up being the draw of the film, more so than the absurdity of the plot and situations. Corddry, in particular, really surprised me with his tragi-comic performance as the guy who really felt at home in the '80s, and was never able to live up to his hedonist heights as a teenager. I can already tell Clark Duke will be pigeonholed as the next Jonah Hill, due to his hipster frame (both body and specs hehe), but I find his humor much more interesting and realistic; he does not seem like he's trying too hard to make us laugh, but at the same time, understands the humor of his character and demeanor and utilizes it well. Craig Robinson and Cusack are dependably g, but I have rarely been disappointed, so I was not surprised. Collette Wolfe, of The Foot Fist Way and Observe and Report, deserves a mention for her sexed-up 80s blonde, who happens to be the young version of Clark Duke's mom, much to his chagrin.

When I heard that John Cusack was going to star in a '80s nostalgia piece involving a ski resort, I had hoped for a more provocative, more retrospective look at the differences between then and today; what would Lane Meyer be like 20 years later? But the fish-out-of-water plot remains too derivative and obvious to allow for any insight to seep through. What we do get are excellently devised gags and undeniably electric chemistry that make the energy and hilarity of the film more than satisfactory. I had just hoped for a script with a little more balls and a little less corniness and contrivance than this, but I can settle for one where the friends interrupt one of their own mid-coitus, then allow him to finish to maintain the space-time continuum.

Highly Recommended for fans of the cast, goofy studio comedies, and '80s movies a la Better Off Dead. This was funnier than I expected, but not as ingenius as that first teaser made it seem...which I'll embed, just because it alone had me completely jonesed for this movie.


The Hot Tub Time Machine - Red Band Trailer
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The Source (1999)

Sweet documentary on the Beat generation and its lasting legacy. The focus is on the three most popular and seminal works of the movement, and their respective authors: On The Road by Jack Kerouac, "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg, and Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. Interviews with Ginsberg and Burroughs, along with archive footage of Kerouac, are prominent, but not the focus; the fast-paced cutting is meant to evoke the style of the period, more than any ruminations on the text. Director Chuck Workman keeps the images and ideas flowing in a Beat-like manner, making the energy, more than the information, the top priority. This works in making the documentary a fun, exciting experience, providing much more life and movement than most docs can muster. However, it trivializes the importance of most of the texts, with only the brief "Howl" being presented in its entirety, and analyzed accordingly. The authors, and their sensationalist lifestyles, take central interest here, as their homosexual exploits, their adventures abroad, and their post-Beat endeavors are extensively, and unnecessarily, detailed. There are readings of the three works by Johnny Depp, John Turturro, and Dennis Hopper, and of the three, only Depp seems tremendously bored and out of place; the connection that the latter two have with the material is tangible and evident in their spirited reading. The sequence on Neal Cassady, the inspiration or "muse" for much of the Beats, including a surprising amount of archive footage, is refreshing and enlightening; my girlfriend claims that the brief footage of the real Cassady is far more interesting than Tom Jane's entire interpretation of him in The Last Time I Committed Suicide. However, at the end, aside from several images or factoids I was not privy to, I did not feel like I had learned anything that the texts themselves did not teach me. That being said, this is a great way to introduce modern audiences to the Beat movement, and definitely captures the idealism and spirit of the movement without compromising too much of its inherent integrity and struggle.

Recommended for fans of Beat poetry and high-energy documentaries. I am not gaga about many docs, and this one did not blow me away, but I found myself calling "Bullshit!!" less times than expected.

Cry-Baby (1990)

Lame John Waters flick trying to homage the 50s with Waters' trademark sarcasm, falling miserably flat. As the titular "Cry Baby," Johnny Depp turns in another one of those pre-Scissorhands performances where he's just trying so dern hard to convince you he's above this cookie cutter trash, which kind of sinks him below it. Everyone else in the film is relatively on board with Waters kitchy tone, including Ricki Lake and Traci Lords as two of Cry Baby's groupies and Iggy Pop as his gramps, but to no avail; aside from some killer song and dance numbers, the movie follows the convention of this type of film too closely to be anything special. But alas, that's probably the point.

I'm not crazy about Waters in general, but his film after this, Serial Mom, is my favorite of his. In that, he perfects his blend of suburban conformity with bizarro freakishness and debauchery, but here, he stays too close to the sincerity to really hit the mark.